


Don't Worry Your Head

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-20
Updated: 2008-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	Don't Worry Your Head

_"honey is for bees, silly bear  
besides theres jelly beans everywhere  
its not what it seems, in the land of dreams  
dont worry your head just go to sleep  
doesnt matter how you feel  
lifes just a ferris wheel  
its always up and down, dont make a sound  
when you wake up the world will come around  
its just sweet weather and peacock feathers  
in the morning itll all be better  
dont worry your head just go to sleep."_

 

The intercom in the so-called studio buzzed, causing Patrick to jump nearly ten feet out of his skin; when his heart returned to a reasonable rate, he turned his head to give the innocent-looking box an incredulous glare. He thought he had given _very_ specific instructions in relation to his studio-time: Do Not Disturb, Unless In Throes of Death.

"Patrick, pick up." Pete's voice crackled through the intercom, sounding tired and right at the edge. Patrick could hear the baby's shrill cries threading around Pete's stressed tone in disharmony. " _Patrick_."

Patrick paused all the running programs on his laptop, shoving it to the side and lurching out of the comfortable armchair he had been esconced in, stumbling over to press a finger on the TALK button. He'd done it again; lost himself in cascading melodies and persuasive rhythms, his mind busily organising words and worlds for other bands and singers, and Pete was somewhere else in the house, dealing with a little girl who was probably the crankiest child Patrick had ever _met_ , and he _knew_ cranky. She was quite likely driving Pete crazy.

Patrick thought it kind of served him right, staying away at the Clan offices nearly all week, just to get out of baby-related duties.

"Um," he croaked and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, Pete?"

"Oh, hey," Pete said, and he sounded very pissed-off. Patrick tightened his lips at this, and tried not to get too angry, but seriously, they'd been sniping at each other since Pete had finally returned home, the both of them picking at faults both real and imagined. At the height of their argument, Patrick had simply handed over a squalling Natasha and disappeared into the studio. "Thought you were dead or something."

"I was working," Patrick said shortly. "You know. I might work at home, but I actually _work_."

" _I know that_ ," Pete snapped. There was a long pause in which he inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm down like their therapist had advised. Patrick rolled his eyes and Natasha cried a little harder. "Look, she won't go to sleep, no matter what I try. So, just tell me what you do, and I'll try that."

 _You'd know what I do if you were here more_ , Patrick nearly ground out and to his bemusement, found himself doing his own inhale-exhale.

"I sing to her," he finally admitted, a little grudgingly.

"Of course you do. But _what_? Hey, you know what, let me in. I won't mess up your little sanctuary too much, promise."

Patrick hesitated for about three seconds, before pulling open the door. Pete stood there rocking Natasha in his arms, still dressed in his work-clothes, which had been a pretty sharp pinstriped navy-blue suit; he'd had some high-powered meeting and probably wanted to unsettle people who had been expecting some tiny punk in a t-shirt with miles of tattoos. He only had on the white shirt now though, with the dark pants, the tie loosened around his throat.

Natasha's chubby cheeks were wet with tears, her large brown eyes fixed on Patrick as she continued to wail. Pete bounced her a little, to no quiet result.

They stared at each other over her curly head. Pete raised his eyebrows, as if in challenge. Patrick reached out to take her, but Natasha tightened her own tiny arms around Pete's neck and refused to budge; Pete looked as surprised as Patrick felt. Usually, Natasha stuck to Patrick whenever Joe brought her over, which was why Joe had felt quite comfortable in leaving his precious first-born in their care... well, mostly _Patrick's_ care, while Joe finally managed to enjoy some honeymoon-time, haphazardly squeezed in between touring with his new band and balancing a family.

Pete sighed. "Just... sing whatever you sing, see if that helps."

 _Just sing whatever_. Patrick stared at him for a long moment. Once upon a time, when Pete said _just sing_ , he said it with an expectant, delighted air, as if saying, _I know you're going to strip my cares away and make me feel golden_ , but now... he said it with a kind of distracted weariness.

"Hey, how you feeling tonight, Tash," Patrick finally said, as if he was Pete addressing some crowd somewhere, like before. "Sing along if you know this one."

 _honey is for the bees, silly bear_ , he sang softly, and Tash Trohman wasn't a stupid kid, she _loved_ this song and she shut up real fast, sniffling. Her little mouth was still pulled down into a pout, but it relaxed as Patrick told her that _it's not what it seems in the land of dreams_ and by the time he informed her that _in the morning it'll all be better_ , she rest her head on Pete's shoulder with a tired sigh, her eyelids drooping.

Pete was looking at him with a considering expression, his eyes strangely bright.

"I think I know that one," he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up. Patrick nodded and on impulse, stepped forward, grabbed onto Pete's tie as if hanging on for life and dragged him forward a bit, pressing his lips against Pete's slightly scruffy cheek. He was about to pull away, stung that Pete remained so still, when Pete turned his head and kissed him full on the mouth, sweet and bitter and soft.

"'Night," Patrick said, a little breathlessly, when they finally parted. Natasha murmured something against Pete's shirt, drooling a little.

Pete grinned at him, and there it was, the golden smile. Patrick had missed it terribly. Pete's smiles were more of the hungry-shark variety these days, now that he kept his mind on his business. Patrick smiled back slowly and Pete nodded as if they had come to some sort of agreement, which they probably had.

"Good night. Go back to work. I'm gonna put the monster to bed." He glanced down at Patrick's hand, still clutching his tie and continued to grin crookedly when Patrick released it hurriedly with a blush that spread far too rapidly for a man his age.

"Hey, how about... I'll just. I'm pretty much finished for now, so. Yeah, it's bedtime for me too."

"I'll watch her all day tomorrow. And Sunday too, you can finish up," Pete offered suddenly as they made their way up to the bedrooms and Patrick blinked at him, surprised at this offer. Not that he wasn't going to take it, he had tons of shit to do. "But you'll have to do the lullaby at bedtime, man. You know if I try, I'll probably make her deaf and then Joe will kill me twice."

"Done," Patrick agreed and when Pete put Natasha in the crib Andy had bought for her, and turned, he put his arm around Patrick's shoulders, heading towards their room, muttering _in the morning it'll all be better_.


End file.
